Corruption Is Just Another Change of Perspective
by seriousish
Summary: When She-Hulk and the Wasp took her to a new club, Susan Storm never expected to become the star attraction.
1. Chapter 1

Sue Storm didn't believe in the stereotype of the bored housewife. Even if she weren't a superpowered celebrity sitting on the boards of half a dozen charities, she had plenty to do as a wife and mother. Her daughter was a six-year-old super-genius with the emotional maturity of… a six-year-old. Her son could create universes, but wasn't very good at it yet. Her husband stretched himself too thin for a living. And then there was her brother and Ben, who needed so much help from time to time that she might as well have four kids.

She kept busy.

So much so, that when she found herself deep in Friday evening with no aliens invading, no ancient evils resurrecting, no board meetings, no experiments, no expeditions, no family dinners, no _nothing_—she didn't know quite what to do with herself.

She asked around.

Reed: I'll be checking the gain constant of the isometric senso-barometer to make sure it's scanning in centimeters instead of inches, which could throw off the entire process of discerning the amount of gaseous molecules in the Planck room and thus, make the entire experiment about as useful as a an iPad at 30,000 feet.

Ben: Sorry, no can do kiddo, the munchkins got me promisin' to take 'em around the old Avengers mansion. Think it's haunted. You wouldn't be interested in none of that…

Johnny: Someone tweeted to ask what happened if I farted when I was flaming. I'm not saying I'm gonna be all evening, but it could take a while.

Reed: …which is, of course, where the LCD begins to completely break down. That said, it would be an interesting application of electronic ink, if done with the proper amount of plasma, to simply 'write down' whatever information needed to be conveyed in a rudimentary fashion…

The inner circle of her life exhausted, Sue turned to her phone's contact list. She considered calling Namor, but dismissed the thought with the same rationale as always. T'Challa was another possibility, but his split with Ororo was too raw and she didn't want to take sides so early on. She-Hulk, perhaps. Now there was a woman who knew how to have a good time. It was literally in her blood, for goodness' sake!

As Sue dialed Jen's number on her iPhone—she kept it as one of the few anchors of reality in Reed's Baxter Building wonderland—she switched the nearest wall segment to mirror—case in point. It dialed and she took a moment to note how her unstable molecule costume flattered her. She'd been wearing it to lounge in, as lazily as a pair of worn pajamas, and because quiet evenings had a habit of attracting supervillains. She didn't want to get caught fighting the Mad Thinker in a Snuggie.

Whatever the reason, the spandex-like covering framed her body well, coating her athletically firm limbs and abdomen as if in smooth paint, while seeming to strain over her full cleavage and backside—the lingering weight of her few pregnancies. She vacillated between abhorring the extra load she was carrying and enjoying the effect it made. With the right posture, the costume was downright pornographic. If she weren't wearing underwear—_conservative _underwear, at that…

How long had it been since she and Reed had used the bedroom for more than sleeping and half-awake experiments?

Jen picked up, silencing her frisky musing. She was in Hulk mode—a good sign, since she never went clubbing as nebbish Jennifer Walters—and as usual, the good cheer she spoke with more than balanced out how intimidating her baritone voice could be. "Sue? Holy moses, Sue, you haven't called in forever. I thought Terrax would have to attack before we'd get back together."

"No such luck," Sue replied, already smiling. "I'm too bored for Scandal. Tell me you've got something cooking."

"Just a quiet get-together with friends." Jen had always been a poor liar. Sue imagined the 'quiet get-together' involving twenty reserve Avengers and Tony Stark's wine cellar.

"Room for one more?"

"You, me, and Janet makes three."

Sue silently punched the air. Janet van Dyne, the winsome Wasp. That sounded like just the thing for her doldrums.

"But, really," Jen's voice turned skittish, "I don't know if it's your scene. We're going a little off the beaten track on this one."

"Bring it!" Sue said readily. "I am just _that_ bored."

"Not kidding here, Sue. I do not want to land on the cover of the Daily Bugle doing _any _of this. So if you're in, I will not be holding your hand."

"Jen, I've had two kids and they're both mutants. Trust me, I don't shock easily."

"Alright, we'll pick you up." Jen's voice turned on a dime, back to wine coolers and boys. "And Sue? Dress like you're not married."

* * *

Usually, Sue just went with her costume. In Paris, it was considered haute culture. Or, if she didn't want to bother with unstable molecules where the sun didn't shine, she had an endorsement deal with J.C. Penney that kept her in sensible everything all eight days of the week. And, if an effort was really called for, she could always bring the glamour.

But this didn't call for her to be Jackie Kennedy reborn. This was asking for slutty. And it'd been a while, but Sue knew she could do slutty.

Back in her college days, and especially to get Reed's attention, she'd favored tight shirts with no bra and jean cut-offs, but there was no getting around that she was deep into her thirties. Sue didn't know how feminist it was, but she detested women who couldn't dress their age. It wasn't that hard to get the desired effect without pretending to still be a snot-nosed twenty-one-year-old.

Going deep into her closet, she found a minidress that had virtually no back, just a halter choker with chain-like straps going to the bodice and the waist-level dip that showed off about every vertebra in her spine. It was blue, of course. Whatever club they ended up at, Sue would enjoy the dissonance people would have seeing the fabulous Invisible Woman getting her drink on.

A decadent set of high heels, along with the lace lingerie she wore beneath, finished the ensemble. She looked and felt sexy, literally from the ground up. More than that, Sue felt _dangerous._

She wondered what Reed would say if he could see her now. But, as the elevator carried her down, Sue thought with some dark amusement that he wouldn't get the chance.

* * *

The evening was dark and surprisingly quiet, most people staying home after the symbiote invasion of the past week, which the Avengers had routed. Jen's green F-150 pulled to the curb—another endorsement deal. Bruce Banner had only signed on because he'd been persuaded it was a boon to American workers, and then had quickly traded it to his cousin. She was equally worried about air quality, but it or an SUV were the only things that could carry her when she'd Hulked out, and as she put it, "it's Glamazon, not soccer mom."

When the passenger door was kicked open for Sue, she saw her friends hadn't gotten the memo about classily dressing down. Janet wore leather pants so tight they could've been mistaken for last week's symbiotes, with a blouse tied off over her belly button ring so that only half of the Japanese art print on the front was showed off. It made Sue feel like she was watching a kung-fu movie with crappy projection.

Jen, meanwhile, had been forced to scrap another of her conservative office outfits and was getting good value for money by wearing it to rags. The jacket was gone, and the metallic gray blouse had lost most of the buttons, only two silkily bridging the space where a bra would go. Her knee-length wool skirt had taken a slit up the side all the way to her panties, which was far too artful not to be on purpose.

Still, if she were in college, Sue would've taken either of them back to her dorm as soon as she had two drinks in her. So, mission accomplished there.

"Sue, you look _great!_" In the driver's seat, Janet's petite body was swallowed up behind the statuesque musculature of Jen Walters. "I'll even forgive you for not wearing one of my designs."

"Ignore her, she's doing Oprah next week," Jen advised.

Sue gave her the obligatory kiss on the cheek before throwing open the side-door. "So where are we headed?"

Jen opened her mouth, but Janet beat her to the punch. "Show, don't tell, Shulkie!" Her smile became a little plastic as she faced Jen. "She's cool, right?"

"Of course!"

"I am," Sue assured her, feeling like she was sneaking a cig with the girls back in high school.

"Just checking. The woman's breast-fed, after all." With Sue now in the backseat, Janet hit the gas without even waiting for her to buckle her seatbelt.

* * *

After a half-hour where Janet drove like they were being chased, they arrived in a part of New York Sue didn't recognize, far from her beloved island. Both sides of the street were construction sites; the tallest building on the block was the parking garage they left the pick-up in.

Behind the parking garage, the fenced-in backalley curved to avoid a subway entrance in its midst like a mosquito in amber. Jen and Janet practically skipped down the steps, while Sue lingered at the head. "I swear to God, if all this build-up is just for some Kabbalah thing…" She followed them down.

Underground, the subway platform was cool and had the stale smell of recycled air. _AC, _Sue thought, _thank Christ. _It looked abandoned, but also clean. There was no graffiti, no trash, no ads—nothing. It was like they'd stepped into a scale-model of a subway station instead of the real thing.

"What is this place?" Sue asked in wonder, noting that the light didn't come from flickering, glaring fluorescents, but from lanterns in wall-scones. The illumination was soft and gentle.

"It used to serve the AB line, but they closed that after a downed Sentinel caved in half a mile of tunnel," Jen explained. "Now the Mistress owns it."

"The who?"

"Later," Janet piped up. She was digging into her handbag for something, which turned out to be an unremarkable-looking white card. With a flourish, it was waved in front of an empty poster space.

From down the empty subway tunnel came the slightest of electronic sighs.

Sue crossed her arms the way she did when Val was fibbing about anything from who erased Adventure Time from the Tivo to where Dr. Doom was at the moment. "I thought you said the tunnel was caved in."

"Part of it," Jen assured her. "Our stop's way before you can even see the rubble."

"Which actually comes in handy." Janet was now carefully replacing the card in her purse. It became clear to Sue that it actually had a special slot to go into. "Keeps curious eyes away."

"And what would curious eyes be looking for?"

Janet excitedly took Sue's arm. "You'll see!" she promised.

Jen took Sue's other arm, which gave her the odd impression of being frog-marched to whatever the evening held. The electric sighing was getting more intense, without actually seeming to get closer. Nonetheless, in a few seconds, something that looked a great deal like the pods from Logan's Run arrived at the station. Sue was about to comment on the similarity when she remembered when the movie had come on, and bit her tongue to avoid looking too old.

Feeling a bit Dorothy circa Oz—that, thankfully, she only knew from home video—she went arm in arm with the other heroines. Inside, Sue took back the comparison. Unlike the clunky sperm-mobiles in Logan's Run, this interior was as smooth and contoured as a luxury sedan, with comfortable reclining seats and recesses for everything from cups to bags. There were no controls, though, none of the buttons Sue had come to expect from moving vehicles. They simply sat down and the tram whooshed back the way it had come. Sue jumped a little at the unusual experience of going backward, facing the subway 'ghost town' as it receded into the distance.

The tram moved fast, with no obvious inertia to jostle them. Repulsor technology, Sue guessed. Expensive, but not prohibitively so. More of a cute toy than the egotistical bleeding-edge tech of a supervillain lair. That was a little assuring.

"So… 'the Mistress'?" Sue prompted Jen.

Jen gave her a giggly look, the big blabbermouth, and though Janet gave _her _the evil eye, She-Hulk spilled. "Well, sometime in the sixties the city tried building a luxury subway station, accessible only by elevator. It tanked, but a while ago, the Lizard shacked up there. After Spider-Man hauled him up, the mayor realized the place might be worth something and put it up for sale like any other real estate. And _she _bought it."

"Who?" Sue insisted.

"You'll judge," Janet said warningly, once more cutting off Jen. "Better to meet her… in her natural environment. If you do meet her. If we're that lucky."

Sue rolled her eyes at all the secrecy. "As long as it's not a future me or a future kid of mine or anyone from the future…"

"It's not."

"But she's been to the future!" Jen teased.

"Shush!" Janet replied.

Jen laughed. The platform had disappeared from sight, leaving the tram stranded in darkness. With the repulsor technology, there was no sign they were moving, either. The only light came from a blue ambiance generated by the tram itself. It didn't extend more than a few inches past the windshield. Stranded in darkness, Sue thought again, turning the phrase over in her head. Like they were waiting for something instead of traveling somewhere. She thought of turning something invisible, just to be active.

"Anyway," Jen said, "_she _bought the station, furnished it, and made it her own private… _our _private… place. You can only get to it by this tunnel, and of course, no one knows it's down here. It's… it's just the best, Sue, really."

"Alright, alright." Sue put her hands up. "Don't oversell it. I've been to the Microverse, so if this is just some rave, I'm not going to be too impressed."

Now Janet laughed, a tad too mockingly for Sue's tastes.

Jen smoothed things over with a sweet smile at Sue and a grimace at Janet. "I'm not trying to sell you on this, it's just…" Jen was so nervous, she actually shrunk a little, turning a lighter shade of green. "It's a lot to take in. Promise you won't freak out? You'll give it just a teensy-weensy chance?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Sue nodded, laughing herself. What were they getting her into, an orgy? No, Jen would never share so many men.

The tram came to a stop without Sue realizing it. But somehow, both Jen and Janet knew to disembark. Sue wondered at that. Had they made the trip enough times to clock it? That seemed unlikely, given their busy schedules, and no club could appeal to them _that _much. Shelving the thought, Sue followed them out of the tram and gasped.

The station they'd arrived at was a stunning tribute to Jet Age architecture, a rounded lobby that bore a resemblance to a Pan Am terminal, but with a stunning mural of sea life where the windows might've been. It extended all around the lobby, even into the far wall beyond the tracks—a cheeky reminder of being below sea level. The floor itself was mostly vacant of the seating arrangement Sue would've expected, with merely a few stone benches scattered about at oblique angles. It was more like a galleria than the 'people warehouses' Sue loathed in public transportation.

And that was just the first stop. A staircase led deeper inside.

Jen took the lead, cheerfully playing tour guide. Sue's eyes were unconsciously drawn to her swaying ass. It was sashaying enough to draw even a married woman's attention, and when Sue remembered herself and looked away, she was shocked to find Janet being equally 'appreciative.' Noticing being noticed, the Wasp gave her a conspiratorial smile.

"Of course, this was never meant to be _just _a platform. There were going to be stores, a library, a theater, a _pool_," Jen rattled on, oblivious. Though she'd regained her height, her inner nerd was still obvious. "_Those_, the Mistress took out. Instead… well…"

"Therein lies the rub," Janet breathed anxiously.

At the bottom of the stairs, the light darkened from the lobby's comfortable glow to a more intimate, evening illumination. Shuddered wall-scones barely dipped light into a wide hallway. Again, Sue was impressed. Plush carpet, wood paneling, even end tables bearing flowers at appropriate junctions. All very dark, very brooding and Jungian—the only real lightness was from the flowers, white roses that seemed to spectrally linger even as they walked past them.

It was like stepping into a tastefully appointed English manor, albeit one that was far more Mr. Rochester than Jane Austen. It was also strikingly… sexual. Though the paintings on the walls were of woodland scenes—nymphs and satyrs frolicking—there was an obvious sensuality to all the gazing and posing that bled into the atmosphere. Even Jen and Janet were in on the act, no longer giggling and strutting about, but simply breathing heavily as they led Sue about. She wondered what all the damn fuss was really about. A burlesque show, maybe? She wasn't an ingénue—if it was a mutant act, she could imagine things getting well and truly feisty.

As they walked, they only passed two other people. Sue thought it was one—a tall woman almost entirely covered by a cloak in the style of Red Riding Hood and a lace mask. Her gait parted the cloak as she went, revealing she was nude except for her high heels. And the muscular thighs put Sue strongly in mind of Ms. Marvel (_Captain Marvel now_, Sue reminded herself absurdly).

That didn't shock Sue—at least, it wasn't the part that shocked Sue the greatest. It was when she noticed the leash clenched in the woman's hand, and her eyes followed it to a naked man trailing behind her on all fours. Sue didn't register anything about him except that he was generously endowed. She could tell because at that moment, he was fully erect.

In a moment, they were out of sight and Sue didn't dare turn her head for a second glance. She was so surprised she didn't even say a word. Neither did Jen or Janet. But they exchanged knowing glances, and when they looked back at Sue, it was with the same aura of something being plotted.

Ahead, double doors were sprawled open. They led into a grand ballroom—at least, something that might've been one, once. Now its marble floor was covered almost from wall to wall with lengthy rugs. The walls were veiled by heavy crimson curtains. Chairs and tables huddled about like shadows, rare specimens with discrete distance between them. They were arranged in a loose constellation around a stage of about ten feet in diameter. The stagelights that ringed it were the only direct light in the room.

They revealed a harness, set up like a large tripod to dangle a woman upside-down, three feet above the floor. She was bound from head to toe in leather that resembled a straitjacket and paint at the same time, smothering her skin right up to the eyeballs. It was all black except for the ball gag in her mouth, which was an offensive chrome, and the wave of green hair that fell from the open bondage hood. And as she struggled in place, a microphone in the gag broadcast her muffled groans and sighs, some program or DJ slowing it down and turning it up and amping the bass so it became a kind of music, playing over the whole scene in a dreamy chorus.

Two more people in Red Riding Hood cloaks were on stage. They beat the bound woman with cats-o'-nine-tails, each stinging hit drawing a smattering of applause from the audience and a renewed writhing from the woman.

Jen looked back at Sue with a shit-eating grin, and saw that she was stricken. "Don't worry, Lorna signs up for that every night…"

Janet hit her, which Jen barely felt and so barely acknowledged. "No names, dummy! We shouldn't even be in our street clothes…"

"Yeah, like Sue would just throw on a Halloween costume because we asked nice. The Mistress will understand."

"Hey, I was Malice…" Sue grumbled through her shock at the perverse sight.

"Shh!" Janet was looking up. So did Jen. And so did Sue.

There was a balcony she hadn't noticed, inlaid in the wall, what must've been the second story of the cavernous ballroom. The light being what it was, Sue couldn't make out many details, but she saw a figure poised at the railing, two slender white-gloved hands on the guard rail, the rest buried in a shock of white fur and ice-blonde hair. The pallor caught the light, while leaving the rest in shadow. Except for the eyes. Though she couldn't see them, Sue felt a pair of predatory eyes on her.

She felt unexpectedly flattered by the obvious scrutiny. From what little she could see of the other… patrons, they all seemed like models of physical perfection, maybe even superheroes like Captain Marvel (if they had been her), their tantalizing cloaks alone outdoing her understated good looks. And yet, those eyes seemed locked on her, repeatedly brushing over the blue dress that now seemed hopelessly quaint in this sea of flesh.

"Told you she'd understand," Jen said smugly, pounding Sue on the back.

"That's the Mistress?" Sue looked back at the balcony, the eye contact—if it had been that—having been broken by Jen's back-slapping. But all she caught was a whiff of cloth, like a cape. White, of course. It disappeared.

"C'mon," Janet said, now simply ignoring Sue's questions. "Let's see if we can get a booth."

Again, Janet took the white card out of her purse. She held it at her side. Sue saw it out of the corner of her eye. She was riveted by the scene on the stage. One of the bound woman's—torturers? Lovers? Co-stars?—had dropped the whip and was now peeling away a section of leather, revealing the flank of her thigh, pure creamy flesh with just the slightest trace of the whip. As Sue watched in stunned disbelief, he took out a knife and ran it gently over the exposed skin. An animalistic keening took over the club's soundtrack, amplified from the woman's need.

"Greetings, madams," came a delicately accented voice, startling Sue. When she turned to recognize the newcomer, her heartbeat picked up again and wouldn't slow down. She felt like she'd been falling asleep, lulled into senselessness by the sheer madness around her, and now her brain had transmitted a random sensation of falling to detonate her.

It was Psylocke. That sweet British voice belonged to Psylocke, Betsy Braddock, stalwart X-Man, former Captain Britain, and she was dressed in the same mask as the other club-goers, its intricate lace barely disguising her Asian features and uniquely English expression of polite sarcasm. Her midnight-blue stockings and gloves made it even more obvious who she was, but even the woman who'd openly tried to steal Scott Summers away from his wife wouldn't wear her current garments into battle.

Instead of the relatively modest leotard Psylocke usually wore, this… funhouse mirror reflection had on the sheerest net panties Sue had ever seen, riding low on her hips to mark the miles of distance from her taut underbelly to the bra that was more like a transparent film draped over her cleavage. The only thing that kept Sue from pinpointing the exact shade of purple in Betsy's pubic hair was that she didn't look hard enough.

"It would be my pleasure to serve you." Her smile was wicked and all-encompassing. "The three of you."

"We would of course want the house brand," Janet said smarmily, already eyeing Betsy's prodigious breasts, the biggest Sue had ever seen on an Asian woman. She'd heard the rumor that Betsy had gotten implants to replicate the D-cups she'd had in her original, Occidental body, but if it was true, then the work was far too good to be detected by sight alone.

"Of course," Betsy replied, her purple hair flashing in the dim light as she bowed with mock-respect. "Compliments of our hostess."

_The Mistress, _Sue thought, almost reverently. Who was she, this woman that had at least four superheroines Sue _knew _to be decent, respectable people… acting like Mardi Gras was being held on spring break?

Betsy turned to lead them away and Sue tried to keep herself from staring at her ass. It was even more exposed than usual, her panties just a strand of lace running between her cheeks to keep the rest together. And her ass was damn near perfect. The slender musculature that ran through Betsy's body sculpted her buttocks into pristine form. Sue had to force herself to look away.

Betsy walked them to the curtains along the wall. Pulling back a set, she revealed a small circular booth, eight feet in diameter with plush seating along the sides and a brief platform in the middle. It was obviously one of many, each practically invisible from the dance floor. Pulled along by Jen and Janet, Sue sat. She watched as Betsy closed the curtains behind them—God, her ass really was spectacular—and then as a stripper pole rose from the center of the platform.

"What's your name?" Janet asked Betsy. She glanced at Sue. "When you're on the job?"

"Slut."

"That's a very pretty name," Janet said seriously. "Dance for us, Slut."

So she did. With the same languid grace that Sue had always seen Psylocke possess in battle, Betsy reached behind her to grip the pole. She waved her body from right to left as she let herself descend, then turned around and rose back up, swaying against the pole. Sue watched breathlessly. This wasn't—for her, she wasn't wired this way. Why was she enjoying this? And yet, and yet, and yet… she was enjoying it as much as Janet and Jen were.

Betsy entwined herself with the pole and circled around it, now facing the party from behind the slick metal. She reached to her breast and her fingertips roved over her nipples, making first one, then the other pop through the sheer silk covering them. Smiling, as if she'd amused herself more than them, she ripped the silk away. Her breasts swayed and rolled from the violent motion, and they kept moving as Betsy circled the pole again, stimulating herself with the cold metal on her sensitive buds.

Again she turned her back on them, her body in continuous liquid motion. The amplified moaning coming out of the speakers and through the heavy curtains now sounded to Sue like exotic music in a sultan's court, spurring a dancing girl on to heights of ecstasy. With one sinuous roll of her body, Betsy shucked her panties. Though the sight of her ass was practically the same, now Sue felt an electric twist of arousal. Betsy was naked. Naked for her and her friends.

"Janet," Jen begged, and out of the corner of her eye, Sue could see that the savage She-Hulk had her hand under her skirt and was making it jump like the sea in a storm. "Jan, I can't do the fucking slow burn thing right now!"

"Christ, she's already naked, what more do you—" Janet groaned and rolled her eyes. Crankily she shoved her own hand down her pants. "Slut, fuck yourself! Give us something to take the edge off."

Sue literally could not breathe as Betsy twisted once more, now letting the side of her body—sleek thigh and the sweet curve of her left breast—face them. One leg was wrapped around the pole and so were both arms. As she faced them, she pressed herself up against the pole like it was a lover—and then began to roll her pussy against the metal. The smell of her new arousal saturated the air. Betsy eyed each of them in turn as she fucked the pole.

"Faster, Slut!" Jen cried, furiously jilling with the hand between her legs, the other inside her blouse and groping her breast.

Janet nodded, similarly enjoying herself.

Sue could only concentrate on keeping her hands tightly clenched on the seat cushion.

Betsy went faster, now driving her pussy against the pole with fast, physical slaps. She bent backward at the waist with each writhing thrust, her large breasts jiggling every time. Upside-down, her wide eyes and opened mouth made the face of a wanton whore. Her thighs, tangled around the pole, slipped against each other like they'd been oiled.

"Thank you!" Betsy said, now hanging onto the pole with one hand and frigging her clit with the other. "Thank you so much!"

"Come for us, Slut!" Jen ordered, and immediately her clothes ripped a little more from her muscles tensing in orgasm.

Sue didn't notice. She'd became entranced in how Betsy's long purple hair was flying wildly about her head, landing across her face in the most provocative way imaginable. A lock of it ran across Betsy's lips and into her mouth as the telepath came, squeezing the pole between her rounded thighs hard enough to make the metal squeak, a final shudder shockwaving through her body before she went still, hanging off the pole. Her breath shallowly stirred the frayed end of the hair as she let go with both hands and hung spread-eagled from her amazing legs, which slid down the pole.

"Fuck," Betsy said softly as her groin traveled from the warm, wet section of metal she'd fucked herself on to new, cooler pole. It sent aftershocks through her body, had her keening with tiny pleasures by the time she hit the ground. Her legs unwound and she laid supine before the three, her breasts rising and falling with the deep breaths she could now take.

"She is just the best," Jen said, sounding similarly exhausted as she took her damp fingers from her panties. "I swear, Sue, this is the best dancer we've ever had."

"Let's give her a tip," Janet said, out of breath. She'd had her own masturbatory finish while Sue was engrossed in Psylocke. Her fingers, damp as morning dew, traveled from her unhitched waistband to Betsy's parted lips. A tiny remnant of Sue thought to protest, but Betsy suckled on Janet's wetness as fast as a baby at a teat. When Jen offered her fingers as well, Betsy took both sets inside her gaping mouth and sucked so hard Sue could hear her slurping.

Sue didn't know how long she would've sat there, watching Betsy suck on two women's fingers—and God only knew what else, in time—but a new arrival brought here back to her senses.

"You ordered refreshments?" came a familiar voice… an American accent, but with the crispness of a foreign education and elevated self-opinion.

Emma Frost stood between the parted curtains, wearing what Sue recognized now as a modernly fashioned throwback to her Hellfire Club costume. Sue had seen the real thing on E! True Hollywood Story. That was scandalous. _This _was downright taboo. The top was now a half-corset that left her shockingly flat stomach bare and almost entirely exposed her breasts, while the bottom had gone from something like shorts to white thong panties. Even her fur cloak had become obscene—the fur trim remained at the collar, but the rest was translucent silk fit for a harem girl. She was sex in high-heeled boots, and Sue nearly came just from the sensation of lust that fell off her.

All in all, it took her a moment to realize that Emma's hand was outstretched, three small vials in her white-gloved palm. Jen and Janet were equally taken aback, but they recovered quicker than Sue.

"Mistress," Jen said—more like stammered. "This is a great honor! Thank you so much for visiting us!"

"Mistress," Betsy repeated, with a bland smile still on her face.

Emma gave her both a look and, Sue assumed, a telepathic command. "Quiet, Slut," she said good-naturedly. "Ms. Van Dyne… Ms. Walters… your presence is always appreciated at my humble establishment. But a new guest… that is cause for celebration. Consider your party favors on the house."

"Thank you, Mistress," the two chimed. Each took one of the vials.

"And please," Emma said, gesturing extravagantly to Betsy, whose breathing quickened at being noticed. "Avail yourselves of the facilities."

Jen was first to act. With a wide grin, she popped the vial's tab and poured it out on Psylocke's body. A handful of white dust covered Betsy's breast, most of it scattering off the contour of her supple cleavage, but enough piling onto Betsy's areola for Jen to snort up hungrily. Betsy giggled at the sensation, and covered her crotch with her gloved hands. In modesty or excitement, Sue couldn't tell.

"Is that…?" Sue half-asked, but no one was paying attention to her.

Jen sat back, nose white with the substance, and then shook like electricity was going through her. Her mouth fell open, her eyes blinked rapidly, and as Sue watched in disbelief, a dark liquid stain appeared where her disheveled skirt exposed her panties.

"Oh my ever-loving _fuck_, do I love coming on cocaine!" Jen enthused, and pulled Sue into a demanding kiss.

Sue gagged and pushed Jen away, but couldn't deny that twitchings of lust were appearing all through her body. She felt feverish—on the verge of explosion. Jen laughed and kissed Janet, who sunk into it quickly. It was only when Sue stopped watching them that she noticed Emma was sitting beside her.

"Quite the party, isn't it?" Emma said, as if she were just making polite small talk over tea.

"What is that shit?" Sue demanded, an obscenity she hadn't used in months falling from her lips unnoticed.

"Just another marvel of mutant scientific advancement," Emma answered smarmily, displaying a white smile under her blue lipstick. "It bears a resemblance to cocaine, but without some of the more inconvenient side effects. It also decreases the chance of a heart attack by twenty percent and does wonders for the urinary tract. Oh, and when it's taken in close proximity to a sexual climax—" Emma dropped the pretense of a quaint chat and just sucked on her lip suggestively.

"What, multiple orgasm in pill form?" Sue asked, the scientist's wife in her taking over for a moment.

"Well, we can't very well rely on men for it, now can we?"

Janet was pushing at Jen—didn't work—slapped her a few times—Jen didn't even fill it through her haze of bliss—so Janet finally delivered a stinger blast to Jen's backside. That shocked her enough for Janet to push her aside and loom over Betsy herself.

"Slut, I'm about to make your night," Janet said, and uncorked her own vial. Unlike the pile Jen had made, she poured it down in a line from Betsy's heart to the wiry purple hair of her crotch. Then she started.

At first, she 'woozily' miscalculated the distance, kissing around the first gram so that her lips landed on Betsy's full breasts and hardened nipples. But she lost patience with the game in a few seconds and, to Betsy's beaming approval, extravagantly tongued the cocaine between Psylocke's breasts.

The rush hit her while her face was resting against Betsy's sweat-slick skin. Her eyes went wide, her nostrils flared, hard breaths stirring some of the cocaine around. Her hands jumped to Betsy's body, one sinking fingers like claws into her breast, the other wrapping around Betsy's throat. Betsy crooned in delicious submission as Janet licked her way down the line of cocaine, stopping every few inches to kiss and suck on Betsy's supple skin.

When she reached the end, her hair was a mess, her eyes were dilated, and her face was smeared with white. She shook a moment—releasing Betsy to run her hands down her own quivering body. Janet ripped her blouse open, the tatters covering one breast but leaving the other bare—Janet didn't seem to care about either. Her hands kept going, down to the pants riding low on her hips. She cupped herself through the leather, barking and squealing in crazed pleasure, kissing either of Betsy's spread thighs before simply burying herself in Betsy's cunt.

Sue was enthralled in watching—how Betsy held onto the stripper pole, stretched between it and Janet's mouth like a prisoner on the rack, but with her eyes squeezed tightly shut in pleasure rather than pain, remnants of the mutant cocaine covering her like powdered sugar on some delicious dish. Sue watched Betsy go from sultry temptress to obscene nymphomaniac over the course of thirty seconds, until Emma dangled the last vial in front of her face.

"Last one's all yours," she said.

Sue felt herself go a little translucent at the thought of not just watching this—orgy—but of joining in. Emma smiled winningly at her nervousness.

"Who do you think I am, Susan?"

"You're… you're an X-Man, a member of the X-Men."

"No." Emma shook her head with a reprimanding sigh and palmed the vial. "I am the headmistress of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. In short, a teacher. I have a passion for education that defines my life. Superheroics are a… cathartic diversion. I can't very well educate if Galactus eats all my students, after all."

"What do you teach here?" Sue asked, her voice unexpectedly bitter.

Emma nodded as Betsy let loose a particularly loud moan. "I create an environment for individuals to teach themselves. To learn about what they like doing, what they like having done to them. Ms. 'Slut' here was once where you're sitting, but she soon learned she was much more satisfied where she is. It's a post-human society, Susan. The old ways are obsolete. Biologically, morally, technologically—already, you have defied conventional morality to take the law into your own hands, to do scientific research far beyond the bounds of peer review, to unseat Dr. Doom's legitimate government as private citizens. Why shouldn't your bold new world extend to the bedroom?" Betsy moaned again, her hands squeaking as they tightened on the pole. "Or wherever."

"You're saying everyone here is… some kind of superhero?"

"More than you'd expect," Emma confirmed. "Though of course, I don't discriminate too much. That would defeat the whole purpose. Here you'll find Avengers, X-Men, Defenders, New Warriors, Guardians of the Galaxy, rock stars, stage actors, politicians, athletes, even the odd blogger—anyone with an open mind and an attractive physique. Here, they can forget about last week's crisis, and next week's, to recharge their systems." Deftly, Emma reached out and took Janet by the short hair, gently pulling her away from Betsy. When the purple hair between her legs came into view, it was damp as a running faucet. Emma craned Janet's neck to face her. "I think she's had enough, dear. Mustn't be greedy."

Betsy caught her breath. Emma gave her a gracious smile.

"Bring us a bottle of wine, Slut. I think our guest needs something to whet her appetite. I'd also like to introduce her to Cyclops. Bring him as well. And Ms. Walters, why don't you come sit by us? We can make it a threesome."

Both moved obediently, Betsy stark naked through the curtains, Jen to sit on Emma's other side. She spread her legs knowing and, like she was petting a lap dog, Emma sunk her gloved fingers into Jen's incongruously pink cunt.

"Jesus," Sue swore, as Emma calmly regarded her, the moaning Jen almost entirely ignored behind her.

"I marked you as soon as you came through my door." Emma continued their conversation with the same tenor as before, moving with the speed and care of a bulldozer over all Sue's misgivings. "You're not as open as they are. But that just makes you more interesting. You have a dark side, Susan Storm. What exactly do you do with it?"

Sue remembered her time as Malice—dressed in a costume that put her body on display like supermarket meat, her words spat out like bullets from her brain instead of being carefully chosen, her powers used to destroy instead of defend. "I control it."

"Do you?" Emma tilted her head with that same vexing smile, low-key but undeniably amused. Like Sue was a dumb cat video on the internet. "Don't lie to a telepath, dearie. How many times have you threatened to put a force bubble in someone's brain? How many times have you actually _done it_?"

"You turned my friends into a Girls Gone Wild video." Sue clenched her teeth, realizing the tension flowing through her body was anger. "Don't tempt me."

"You don't control your dark side. You repress it, but that just gives it power over you. There are certain things you won't do, won't enjoy, because while they're a part of you, it's the _wrong _part of you. Bad. Dirty." Emma took her hand away from Jen, leaving her—Sue noticed—on the verge of climax. As she panted like a marathon runner, Sue daintily nipped at her damp glove. "Oh, God, how I love you neurotic types. Jean, Scott, Kitty… I'd feared I'd run out. There's only so many hang-ups you can have when you belong to a team that dresses up in all black leather. But you, Susan…" Emma brought her hand down swiftly on Jen's sex. She-Hulk whimpered out a incongruently quiet orgasm as the sound of the slap faded away. "Oh, that jumpsuit may be form-fitting, but it covers up so _much_."

Sue stood abruptly. "Thank you for your time… or whatever… but this isn't for me. I'll be leaving."

Emma stood as well, putting herself in Sue's path. She peeled off her gloves. Underneath, her fingernails were a vivid shade of red. Not in keeping with her monochromatic color scheme, but somehow perfectly fitting. "Come now, Susan." She opened the vial and poured it out into her bare hand. "Surely you're only proving my point? If you are in control of your dark side, can't you admit to yourself that there's a reason you've been watching women in flagrante delicto for the past twenty minutes? That you can both indulge in recreational drug use and perhaps some sexual intercourse of your own, while still being a good wife and mother? Or would kissing me invalidate all you've done to raise your children and support your husband?"

"I don't want to kiss you," Sue said firmly.

"You want to be kissed," Emma countered with her Cheshire cat smile only growing wider. "You want to be fucked. You want to come. Why is it Reed can go to another dimension to experiment, but you can't do it in the same area code?"

Sue looked down at Emma's hand. It was full of sparkling crystals. The powder up close.

Her problem, Sue mused, was that she was a goody two-shoes who had surrounded herself with goody two-shoes. Even Johnny, for all his man-child ways, had showed worrying signs of growing up lately. Even Dr. Doom, her arch-nemesis, could be counted on to at least be forthrightly, honorably evil. Everything was black and white. It worked for her ninety-eight percent of the time.

But in quiet moments, she wondered if her life was fit to her or she was fit to it. Even her what-ifs seemed… dry. What if she'd left Reed for Namor? She'd be Queen of Atlantis. More responsibility, more children. What was there in her life that was truly dangerous?

She needed to take a risk. Not in battle, where she always had Johnny and Ben and Reed to back her up. Here. Alone. Where she could truly be herself, whoever that was.

Without a word to Emma, she took the woman's hand and brought it to her face. She breathed in deeply, trying not to smear the powder all over her face like the others had. She held her deep breath and—the soft edges of this little world got softer, colors becoming so vivid that they bled into each other.

A new, strange, but not unwelcome tingle invaded her body, spreading not from her nose or lungs, but from her cunt. It stretched out to her extremities until her fingertips, her toes were buzzing. Her nipples stiffened so much they became painful, stinging pleasant beneath her blue gown. And her cunt was now pulsing, sending waves of further pleasure out to every erogenous zone. It was like coming without coming, a lethargic desire that had her wanting-needing-wanting and almost _having. _She needed someone. She needed someone to free her from wanting and not having. She needed anyone.

She looked at Emma… in the blurred world, she was a pillar of white amidst a sea of welcomingly dark colors—alien and yet tempting. A diamond in the rough. Blue lips parted. White teeth gleamed like diamonds.

"Just as I thought," Emma said, like a doctor after a test had proven her diagnosis. Her hand now parted Sue's lips and slipped a finger inside. Then another, then another. Each was caked with the powder. Each entry had Sue sucking needfully. Each sucked-clean finger sent out a tidal wave of lust from her electric sex. "All you innocents… all you Madonnas… all you really need is to get _fucked_."

Sue saw the word—_fucked_—billow out into the air and slowly slip into her ear. She laughed when it got to her brain. Yes. Yes, she did needed to be fuck. How she'd overthought it, so like Reed, putting it into a bunch of big words and existential angsts when really, what more did she need than to get fucked? And why not Emma? Why not lovely, lovely Emma, who wanted her so badly? Sue liked being wanted. She was a beautiful woman. She was entitled to it.

"Your drinks, mistress," Betsy said, returning with a tray. On it was an ice bucket and something like a large cigar box.

Emma's hand was still at Sue's face, cupping it lovingly now. Showering affection on her quick-learning student. She slipped her thumb into Sue's mouth and let her suck once more. "Good, you brought an ice bucket. Let the wine chill for now. Sue and I are going to be busy. Cyclops, if you would?"

Betsy placed the box on the platform and opened it. Inside was a blue dildo with yellow straps, prodigiously sized, and with the head painted red. Sue burst out laughing.

"My one-eyed monster," Emma explained with a warm smile. Sue didn't think she'd stopped smiling since she came in. "It and Scott, who I love, are in a competition to see who can bring me more pleasure. I think this'll put him on the losing side."

Applying pressure to the hand at Sue's face, she sat her down on the platform. Betsy, perhaps of her own initiative or perhaps from Emma's mental command, picked up the strap-on and helped it onto Emma. Then, with a pat on the bare ass from Emma, she went to join Janet and Jen. They'd been lying next to each other on the cushioning, lazily touching themselves and each other, and now that Betsy was there, they touched her too.

Emma tested the straps on her apparatus. Nice and tight. "Ms. Walters. Ms. Van Dyne. Ms. Braddock. I'm very pleased to announce that you will be the first to see a new show I'm debuting at the club. The Taking of Susan Storm. Sit on your hands. You're not allowed to touch yourselves. Because when I'm done with her, Sue will be sucking on your cunts, each in turn, until you come."

Sue giggled. She liked the sound of that. How many times would she have sucked Reed's cock if he'd let her, if they'd have a proper honeymoon phase instead of a quick trip to Bora Bora and then back to the lab? Now she would make up on lost time. The world would be her husband. She'd get the fucking she was owed before time ran out.

"Mistress," she said, and opened her cunt with her fingers.

Emma looked down and shook her head disapprovingly. "Not there, where your husband's been year after year. You're going to give me something you haven't given anyone else."

And, taking hold of Sue, Emma simply flipped her over so she was bent across the platform.

"Your ass," Emma said lovingly, "is mine."

Sue felt hands running over the taut skin. She looked back and saw Emma's fixed smile had grown dreamy with enjoyment. She was lightly massaging every inch of Sue's backside, luxuriating in every bit of Sue's skin—the thighs, the cheeks, even the wet pussy right around the corner. Sue held herself up on her arms and groaned freely. It was such a wonderful change of pace from Reed, who always sought to pleasure her, but did so like he was conducting another one of his damned experiments. She got to feel like an obligation, a Bunsen burner he had to turn off before he left the lab, and it was only when something changed that she realized how sick of it she was.

Emma—lovely, lovely Emma—grabbed Sue's ass like she fucking loved ass. Liked looking at it, liked touching it, and loved fucking it. But she wasn't just satisfied to touch. Her fingers grew bolder, exerting possessive force on Sue, squeezing her like ripe fruit. Sue looked her dead in the eye and moaned like a porn star.

Emma's smile went wide. "Shame you've been such a good girl. I have no call to spank you." Nonetheless, she gave Sue's ass a quick, promising pinch. "Let's get you in trouble."

When Emma slipped a finger into her ass, Sue's moan was quite real. She snapped her teeth down automatically to control the embarrassing sound, before looking forward to see that her audience was fidgeting in their seats, lips bitten, sweat dripping, enjoying the show and the soundtrack. She favored them with another obscene moan, only halfway faked as Emma pistoned her finger delicately within Sue's virgin hole. The finger felt cold and wet, and it was only when Sue looked back again that she realized Emma was spreading lube inside her. Her strap-on was already slathered in it, glistening greasily.

Emma gave the strap-on a good luck stroke. "Open up for Auntie Emma."

Sue blinked rapidly, her only facial expression as she felt the frightening touch of Emma's strap-on—her _cock_. She'd been in enough fights to be used to pain, but this was so much more threatening. She was about to be penetrated, invaded, violated… split open, practically. The pain seemed so much more real than taking an laser blast. Her only reassurance was that it was Emma doing it to her. And Emma would make her feel so good…

Emma smiled to herself, a shared smile with each of the three women in the audience. A telepath, she'd felt the moment of surrender as easily as the other ladies had seen it on Sue's face. Not the consent to sex—that had precipitated as many battles as it had surrenders. It was the moment Sue closed her eyes and accepted that the White Queen knew best. That was what Emma loved best about the innocent. No matter how many times they'd fucked, when Emma was with them, she always took their virginity.

And then, Emma exerted herself. Sue's ass was tight and Emma herself showed a smidgen of gentleness, truly wanting Susan's experience to be an enjoyable one. But still, in a few moments, she was inside.

For Emma, it was unbearable pressure and shocking pain. A guttural sound escaped from her throat that she couldn't define. But she also felt a spark of pleasure, deeper and hotter than anything she'd felt in years. It burned brighter as Emma ran her hand possessively down Sue's back, taking in the breadth of her conquest.

"More," Sue said feverishly.

Emma eased her hips forward, slowly but irresistibly. Sue grunted in pain. Every inch was a certain agony, but it also brought a kind of fulfillment, a fullness, a completion. Emma was _fucking _her and soon—this seemed incredibly important at the moment—she'd be utterly _fucked_. And Emma wouldn't stop, despite the pain, despite the uncontrollable tears that ran down Sue's face. She could feel the pleasure growing in Sue's mind. She shared Sue's first-ever experience of being stretched, obscenely, more and more, the pain mounting until all of it had been wrung out of her, water from a sponge, and all that was left was—ecstasy.

Emma was buried in Sue, all the way up to the dildo's yellow straps. She leaned down, shifting the dildo deliciously in Sue's ass, to kiss the back of the Invisible Woman's neck.

And, like she'd been given permission, Sue came. Not just for herself. For the Mistress. She'd never been so filled, so possessed, so _Emma's. _Emma laughed evilly as Susan _gushed _like she'd been holding in her come for decades. She cried as she came, nothing to do with the pain, everything to do with the pleasure. Her hands slipped out from under her and she ended up face-down on the platform, every breath bringing in the scent of Betsy's sweat from when she'd laid there.

Emma bent over her, still _inside_ and not intending to go anywhere for a while. Just taking a moment for Sue to get used to being completely and utterly fucked. Not a quickie, not a date night, not even a love affair. Having a giant length of silicone shoved up her ass by another woman and loving it.

The teacher cooed lovingly in her student's ear. "Funny thing about our little controlled substance. The side effects, as you've experienced, are most entertaining. The increase of fluid in the genital area, the heightened sensitivity, the feeling of euphoria. But even that high is not what this drug is all about. It was developed to destroy old-fashioned feelings of guilt, shame, and taboo. Give this to a Mormon closet case and he'll happily discover fun with glory holes. And for you, Susan—this is what you want without fear of remorse, regret, self-loathing… all those emotions designed to keep you in line. They obscure what you truly want. So now seems like a good time to ask. Do you want to go cold turkey and get my cock out of your ass? Or do you want another hit while I fuck you like the bitch you are?"


	2. Chapter 2

As a girl, Sue had been a parent. Her father and mother had died young, but now before giving her a baby brother to care for. So, a teenage girl, she'd stepped into the gap. Washed his clothes, done his dishes, cut the crusts off his sandwiches. All while a part of her, and it fluctuated in size every day, saw the other girls who only had to worry about diets and clothes and boy bands; it screamed "Unfair! Unfair! Unfair!" And she couldn't argue with it, not when Johnny got to be a kid and she had to be an adult.

She didn't want to take it out on Johnny. He'd lost as much as she ever had. More; at least she had the memories of their parents. He barely had their faces. But still, the frustration piled up, just from Johnny being Johnny, and she… overcompensated. She went for him to go to sleep, at a 9 PM bedtime she was uncommonly strict about, and then she dug into her closet for the clothes he never saw her in. The leather. The red lace. The thin tops. And she went to the kind of clubs that probably shouldn't have let her in and did the kind of things that she shouldn't have done, yet couldn't regret.

Boys (bad boys) called her Stormy, and hung off the puffs of smoke from every cigarette she burned. Tobacco or otherwise. She'd danced way too close with other girls' boys, stealing them away, and sometimes stealing both. They weren't called threesomes back then. Just 'partying'. And that was about as gay as Susan had ever been.

Last night, she'd eaten out three women.

Sue had been under no illusions that 'Stormy' was the real her, anymore than she was 'really' June Cleaver. She was somewhere in-between. She loved both the danger and the safety, the day and the night; male and female (she thought ruefully). Then came Reed, and Ben, and Johnny too, in a way, the way he matured ever so slightly and fit into their little group, the dutiful son with Reed, the annoying little brother with Ben, playing the kind of tricks you never could with a sister. She'd found herself, in a way.

And, in another way, the birth of the Fantastic Four was a blessing on that account. Suddenly, she was both sex symbol and scientist, family member and Imaginaut, Susan Storm and the Invisible Woman. Getting married just confirmed it. She could have it all. The danger, the risk, the adventure, all with a home to come back to and a sweet husband and a family that loved her unconditionally.

Where had it all gone wrong?

Somewhere along the way, with Johnny and Ben forming their own little families and with the birth of her two amazing children—the fantasy had given way to routine. She had to mind Reed— with his dictatorial tendencies, his patrician outlook, the self-assurance that bordered on supremacy—as much as she ever had Johnny. She had to comfort Ben in his heartbreak, because the world just kept breaking the biggest heart she'd ever known. And Johnny… she actually envied Johnny. The way he seemed to dip into responsibility without it ever sticking. He was best friends with that spider fellow, but if it wasn't convenient, that was alright, Peter could just find Daredevil and play with him. It was all so…

Something had happened to her, small but infuriating, and it just happened _so much…_

So she'd slipped back into _her _old routine. She'd been Stormy again, without even realizing it. The old double agent had come back to life as she went out with her friends for a night on the town, no idea what a night it would be. She'd stayed with Janet and Jen as they changed right before her eyes, showing her lusts she never could've imagined them possessing, then holding up a mirror for her to look into. Like the dance of the seven veils, her inhibitions had fallen. She would be present, but not look. She would look, but not stare. She would stare, but not touch. One by one, she had gotten out from under her vow to Reed, and by the time the coke was on her nose and a dildo was up her ass, she'd still thought of herself as Susan Richards. Was she? Had she ever been?

She'd gone back home, helped into her clothes by her newfound friends—co-conspirators. They'd washed her up and given her water for her hangover and Emma herself had given Sue a smart pat on the rump to send her on the way. And she, still the dweeb that had never gotten ahead of a single Avenger on the Maxim Hot 100, had taken the taxi humming _I Could've Danced All Night _to herself like she'd just been romanced by Clark Gable. She'd seen the show's last Broadway revival. What had she been doing getting fucked in the ass by a former supervillain?

Then she'd slept without even a moment's insomnia, dead to the world as soon as her head hit the pillow. The night burned the drug out of her system, letting her guilt in. She'd woken up a changed woman, though the change had come the previous day. This was just when she felt it.

Frantically, she'd gotten into the shower and scrubbed herself like there might be evidence painted on her skin. The clothes she'd thrown out only because burning was too extreme. She went without make-up and it just made the woman in the mirror harder to recognize. She'd always been a natural beauty, but now there was a terrible light in her reflection. A smile that seemed to persist right through her horror. She'd hadn't just cheated on her husband. She'd loved every second of it.

Emma's voice rang in her eyes, as clear and loud as church bells in the distance. "That high is not what this drug is all about. It was developed to destroy old-fashioned feelings of guilt, shame, and taboo…. Susan—this is what you want without fear of remorse, regret, self-loathing... all those emotions designed to keep you in line."

The thought leapt to her mind. She could go back. Get more of Emma's 'mutant coke'. Bury this useless guilt again, leaving only her enjoyment of what had happened. But no. She hated the idea. Getting through life self-medicating, not for depression or anxiety, but just to kill her remorse. No, she deserved to feel this way. She deserved to feel worse. Because as awful as she felt, she couldn't bring herself to hate what had happened.

She just couldn't let herself _think _about it.

"Sue? Are you awake?" Reed's voice came through the cracked door, followed shortly by his head on an extended neck. Sue looked around, as if checking whether she _was _awake. After that night, everything felt unreal.

She was still in bed, her eyes aimed at the alarm clock without actually acquiring it. She'd slept in one of the guest rooms, and it still smelled vaguely of aftershave and flannel from when they'd had Wolverine over. Sue hadn't expected Reed to notice her absence; it had smelled like another all-nighter in the lab. But apparently not.

"I'm up," Sue said. "Just feeling a little under the weather."

She turned herself invisible to go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Reed's head, still extended, followed her in. Luckily, he was used to her not wanting to be seen before she put her face on. For a moment, he was distracted by her clothes becoming visible as they were peeled from her body, then by the outline of her in the steam and hot shower spray.

"If I did something to offend you, I'd appreciate you letting me know." Reed's body made that balloon-rubbing sound as his body caught up with the rest of him. Apparently this was important enough for him to join her in whole. "I reprogrammed HERBIE to let me know if there's a greater than sixty percent chance of my having angered you, and to order flowers as appropriate, but the system is still in beta…"

"We're fine." Sue reassured him by turning her face visible, along with a helping of her upper chest. As she might've expected, he'd rededicated himself to science far too much to be flustered once more. "I just caught a bug and I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, let me run you through the scanner suite, just to be sure. You never know when one of these things is a potion of Diablo's…"

Sue thought of him picking up the coke in her system. She had to give it time to flush out. If it did flush out. It was some kind of mutant drug, right? What if it would keep showing up on drug tests when she was eighty? "Please, Reed, I can't have every 48-hour bug be treated like something out of Star Trek. Just let me be sick awhile, please? The kids can bring me breakfast in bed, like I did for my parents growing up. It'll be fun."

"Alright. You get some rest. If you feel better, the seismology department of NYU either has some extremely faulty Richter scales or New York will soon be experiencing a tectonic event. Either way, the Fantastic Four can lend assistance."

"I'll be there. Just some antihistamines and orange juice, and I can deal with whatever the Earth's crust can throw at us."

"That I can provide."

Dressed in her uniform, and babied slightly by Reed, she felt slightly herself. And moreso with Johnny and Ben quibbling over a videogame, Franklin of all people playing peacemaker. In the time it would've taken her to add two and two, Reed had double-checked the university's findings and concluded there was nothing wrong with the Richter Scale ("Though to be less colloquial, the fault would be in the seismograph, not in the measuring unit itself."). So off they went on the Fantasticar, hovering a half-mile above the adoring masses, supported only by repulsor technology.

The fantastical situation had Stormy bored solid. Seismological weirdness. Had to be Mole Man. And it was. He came bursting up through the Port Authority Bus Terminal (he'd been aiming for Times Square) with the usual rejects from Barsoom. The prospect of a fight seemed so… dull. She could even mouth along with ol' Harvey.

"Foolish suntanned barbarians! The subterranean world will not tolerate your unchecked aggression! Quake before the terrible vengeance of the Mole Man and his lightless legions!"

Then Sue glanced down at the Fantasticar's radar screen and realized they'd double-booked. The Blackbird was on its way as well. Which meant…

_Hello, lovely._

_Get out of my head, Frost._

_Very well._

The radio crackled and for a half-second, Sue expected Emma's iced accent to proposition her right before her teammates. Instead, it was Cyclops's commanding tone coming over. "X-Men to Fantastic Four, we're in the neighborhood. Need any help?"

"Nope!" Johnny said, while Ben chimed "Nada!"

"The more the merrier," Reed said. "I'm always interested to see the X-gene in action."

"That you'll get, Dr. Richards. You might want to hang back while we make our entrance—"

"Come onnnnn!" Johnny pleaded, picturing Bobby Drake getting more hits than him on the Twitosphere.

For once, Reed was with him. "Sorry, friend. The FF doesn't hang back."

They leapt into the fray, followed closely by Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Beast, Kitty Pryde, Gambit, Maggott of all people, and of course, Wolverine. Emma had to still be in the Blackbird, piloting. Waiting to make her entrance. No rush.

Sue steeled herself against anymore speculation in _that _direction and focused on the fight. It was alright, as far as fights went. She didn't enjoy violence, but as long as the boys had a good time and no one got hurt—well, it was like a bonding exercise, almost. Much better quality time than playing Monopoly.

The Mole Man overreached quickly, and was captured by Wolverine, who was thrown by the Thing. They had a name for the maneuver, which unduly fascinated Reed as he wrapped his arm three times around the snout of a reptile that was trying to wolf him down.

Without the Mole Man's guidance, his monsters were just wild animals driven berserk. They could be corralled and tranquilized one by one, Johnny using his flames to trap them, Kitty baiting them with the safety of her intangibility, and Marvel Girl dumping them back down Mole Man's hole after they were out.

Still concerned by her 'sickness,' Reed asked Sue to watch Mole Man on a nearby rooftop while they wrapped things up. She was quick to oblige. Despite two near-death experiences and the bitter pain of a claw swipe across her midsection, she couldn't keep her mind off Emma. What was she thinking, as she directed the Blackbird's turrets with only a fraction of that incredible intellect? What was she going to _do_?

She got her answer surely. The Blackbird's hatch opened and Emma dropped down like Buttercup at the end of The Princess Bride, her cape and hair flowing so sinuously that they might've been parachutes. Her body was diamond, though, and it cut through the air like an arrow. The light hit it, flowed through it like the sun setting over water, and Sue was in awe. Emma knew it, and she didn't care.

It'd been a long time since she'd had wonder. Finding it with Emma seemed at least as legitimate as traveling to another dimension.

Emma landed surprisingly lightly. Sue wondered how much diamonds weighted and—"You wound me," Emma said, shaking flakes of concrete off her high-heeled boots. The impact she left was like a star would put down outside Mann's Chinese Theater. Dainty and elegant. "I live in a mansion where red meat is a load-bearing part of the food pyramid and yet I only allow myself Nutella when I'm licking it off someone. If Husk had shifted into diamond, she'd be on the ground floor right now."

The Blackbird stayed hovering over them, casting its shadow over the two women and the restrained Mole Man. It happened in the blink of an eye. With no sunlight touching her, Emma's transformation back into flesh was almost imperceptible. And yet, Sue felt the sudden wave of warmth coming off her newly human skin like it was a physical caress. Emma smirked at her speechless facial expression as she turned to the Mole Man.

"Oh my. Is this who's been monopolizing your time? I've had some unconventional partners in the past, but still…. Dignity. Always dignity." Tugging on her left glove like she was reminding herself she still had it on, Emma touched her hand to the Mole Man's temple.

Perhaps it was a side effect of her ability to make the invisible visible, but Sue had always been able to see psychic powers, after a fashion. When she was staring right at it, it was still as vague as something in the corner of her eye. The heat coming off a grill or a cloud in the night sky. Usually, it just blurred her vision during a psychic attack, seeing the blunt force and invasive thievery used by most telepaths. With Emma, it was like she was sliding crystal scalpels into the man's brain, or moving slides under a microscope.

"Oh, rude boy," Emma chided. "The thing he makes those Moloids wear. Your little arch-nemesis saw a documentary on fracking and decided that this time, right would make might. I know a lot of men retreat to basements after they're rejected by enough women, Harvey, but you approach hyperbole. Oh well, at least those boys get to let out some steam without brawling in front of the students, and a little devastation stimulates the economy. Sue dear, have you invested in Damage Control Inc? A very well-run company. Owner's a personal friend. The workforce is fourteen percent mutant and two percent AI. That's better than some Avengers line-ups."

"I can't do this," Sue said. She kept her voice blank, her face blank, her mind blank.

"Can't?" Emma put the Mole Man to sleep with a hearty prod and wheeled on Sue. "Susan, you've _done _it. It's part of you now. It always has been and it always will be. You're my bitch."

"Don't call me that."

"You loved it."

"I'm married."

"And I killed a horse once. Why are we discussing things with no bearing on our situation?"

"It has _every _bearing on our situation! No, not our situation. Mine!" Sue threw up an invisible forcefield, thick enough to mute their rising conversation for outside ears. "I'm the one with kids, I'm the one with a family, what do you have? Some… eff-buddy!"

"Eff-buddy." Emma quirked an eyebrow. "Scott's more of a D-buddy, if you take my meaning."

"You're a smart woman, I'm sure you have some masterful way of justifying all this to yourself. But be honest—how would you feel if Scott cheated on you?"

"Bored, probably. Slightly surprised, depending on how much she looked like Jean Gray."

"Well, Reed's not one of your post-human… hipsters! If he found out about us, it would actually hurt him—"

"Would it?" Emma interrupted, barely letting Sue get her last word out before she interjected. "Would it really? Or, as you're so deathly afraid of—would he not even care?"

"Quiet, Frost."

"Perhaps he'd consider it convenient, sharing you. Pawning off your less… cerebral needs onto a third party. Your children have a nanny. Why can't you have a mistress?"

"I'll hurt you," Sue promised.

"Not the kind of physicality you're looking for," Emma replied. She walked toward the forcefield, her low-level scan of Sue's mind telling her it was there, and Sue forced herself to lower it so Emma wouldn't run headlong into nothingness. And as Emma stepped out of the shadows, the light let her steal Sue's breath away.

She was perfect. Even on a team and a job that seemed to demand physical perfection, she took the _ne plus ultra _of her costume and her body and wore them with such daring and verve… with an effect that went beyond the psychic and became nigh-physical… with such confidence, to both flaunt and not give a damn how she was perceived at the same time… that Sue could only compare her to the Celestials, the Eternals, the other god-like beings the Fantastic Four had encountered on their travels. In the same way their sheer power and importance seemed to shake the matter of the universe itself, Emma's sexual potency demanded attention, arousal, worship.

Her comparatively modest X-Men costume made 'the real Emma Frost' an open secret, a private joke between her and Sue. With her bodice covering her from heart to womb, she easily showed less skin than a lot of superheroines Sue could name. It was the way she stood, the way she walked, the looks she gave that elevated her into a love goddess.

Emma didn't touch Sue, though she was within arm's reach. She barely even looked at her. She just held herself the way she did, arms across her chest, hands about her face, inviting Sue to uncover her. Not even showing enough flesh to be a promise, merely a gamble. "We're not having the same conversation. You're talking about truth, justice, the American Way. All the things that make your life worth living—when you're not with me. Me? I _give _your life meaning. I give you pleasure that justifies your life. I make you come so hard it justifies itself. This isn't about big words like infidelity and faithfulness and trust. This isn't words at all. It's that mindless beast between your legs that knows what it wants and know how to get it. Are you going to let me feed it, Sue darling? Or are we going to pretend that playing Suzy Homemaker gets you off half as good as I do?"

Sue was flustered halfway through Emma's speech. By the time Emma was done, she was wet. She tried to deny it, but she couldn't when every minute motion rubbed a warm pussy against sodden panties. And so, desperate to force this impossible contradiction out of her life, her powers activated the same way they would to instinctively stop a gunshot.

Emma faded from view. A moment later, her laugh came from nowhere.

"Oh, Sue, you're more delightfully fucked up than you let on. You know, you could've just turned my clothes invisible. It'd make a much better show." Sue heard high heels clicking on the pavement between them, that had been between them. "But even I must admit, it wasn't the sight of me that made you come like Old Faithful. It was my touch. It was how I made you _feel_."

And to Sue's horror—to her unending relief—she felt Emma's invisible hands run from the sides of her breasts down the curvature of her ribs, all the way down to rest on her hips. Just short of her ass, just short of her _cunt_—the grip staggeringly intimate and not nearly intimate enough all at once.

"Did you know we actually forget things on purpose?" Emma's voice was in Sue's ear now. There was no telling how close she was. Sue could've made her eyes perceive Emma Frost, could've simply uncloaked her, but both options seemed unbearable. She could only stand there, in her lust and her weakness, and be tempted. "It's true. Imagine if every single thing that had ever happened to you could be called up at a moment's notice. It'd be torture, wouldn't it? Sensory overload. For our own sake, we reduce the detritus of our lives to vague blurs, scents and impressions, so we can live in the now instead of being held prisoner to the past. But you, Susan—you try to sandpaper past, present, and future into one smooth slope, sliding down unimpeded from your birth to your death. I'm not offering you memories, dear heart. I'm offering you the here and now. My fingers in your cunt, right now, and my cock up your ass in five minutes. And the only way you could say no—is if you didn't know what you were being offered."

Suddenly, Sue felt Emma's hand in her hair, the force of her muscles pulling on her scalp, forcing Sue's face up into Emma's warm breath. It smelled of lilacs. "And we both know you can't pretend that."

Emma kissed her and Sue remembered everything.

She remembered being face down in a sex club, her best friends arranged in front of her. They were sitting on their hands, not allowed to masturbate, naked from the waists down (at least), but clenching their tights together for the faint pleasure. Janet was even opening her legs extra wide to flash her pink pussy at Sue, either mocking her or promising her something.

The reason they weren't allowed to masturbate, and the reason they wanted to, was Emma Frost. She was wearing her White Queen costume, known and feared through the superhero community as the brand of the Hellfire Club. The only bit of color on her was the yellow and blue dildo strapped to her hips, a sardonic tribute to her current beau, Cyclops of the X-Men. And it was buried all the way in Sue's ass. Though she was bent over the table of the private booth all five ladies were crammed in, Sue might as well have been bowing to Emma.

"Do you want to go cold turkey and get my cock out of your ass?" Emma was asking, finishing a lengthy extolling of the drug Sue had literally eaten out of Emma's hand. "Or do you want another hit while I fuck you like the bitch you are?"

Sue hadn't even hesitated. "Muh-mistress!"

Emma took that as the plea it was. She withdrew just enough to get a running start, then _impaled _Sue with one surge of her hips. The ladies in front of Sue—her friends and colleagues—tightened their thighs together as one. Sue could smell their arousal. She could see it glistening on the seats below them.

"Enjoy my cock up your ass," Emma advised, sounding nothing more than solicitous. "It's going to be there quite a bit."

Despite her pleasure, Sue felt the fear of a winded animal being pursued. In her panicked, ecstatic state, she couldn't imagine Emma _ever _stopping. She was powerless, _willingly _powerless—and that left only the enjoyment. There was nothing she could do to stop the pleasure Emma was giving her and she wouldn't have it any other way. The fear sent adrenaline coursing through her, thicker in her veins than the drugs. It made everything vivid.

Once more, Emma held herself deep inside Sue. She took Sue's blond hair in one hand, vanilla blonde, such a small ways away from Emma's own rose gold hair, but so dour in comparison. Emma rubbed it between her fingers before pulling on it, the new pain forcing Sue's attention.

"Touch yourself," she ordered. "I'm under no obligation. If you want to come, you're going to have to do it yourself."

Sue understood. She parted her legs as much as she could with one of Emma's hands still on her hips, keeping her in place, then she shifted all her weight onto her left hand while her right ran underneath her prone body. She felt her clit and it was like it was hot to the touch, the intensity of the contact was so strong. A nudging push in her mind from Emma. She _groped _herself, the sharp feeling cutting into the pained pleasure of the dildo in her ass. Mixing but not mixing. Oil and water. Almost immediately, she—

(Sue remembered Emma's mind with hers, like they were hand in hand, running their conjoined hand over her sex, her perineum, her clit. Her fingers were soft and nimble, so different from all the callused touches she'd known—that was Emma's thought, not hers—they felt magnificent. And the cool lacquer of her manicure, when Emma pressed her to rake her nails over her cunt despite her fears… It was almost enough to blot out the lingering pain of Emma's penetration, but some always stayed, like spice. Just Emma shifting her weight was like an earthquake: more than enough to finish her off.)

"Sorry!" Sue breathed as she came. She had no idea what she was apologizing for.

Emma patted her on the back. "That's quite alright, dear. I think you've had enough of Cyclops. He's best in small doses." Emma withdrew a ways, and even that sent burning heat through Sue. It hurt so much more than it pleased, but she loved it and she held still without the slightest nudge from Emma. Emma stopped, neither hilted in Sue nor outside her, and being balanced on that knife's edge snapped Sue's mind. A tear ran down her cheek. When she saw her mascara running later, she wouldn't be able to remember where it was from joy or agony.

"Would you like some more coke, my dear? Like they say: it's the pause that refreshes." Sue could only nod. "Slut, time to make yourself useful."

Psylocke answered to her codename, bending down—it was an effort for her hands to avoid her pussy—and reaching into her stockings, where a sort of garter belt held more vials of the stuff. She poured one out in front of Sue and Sue went for it, but Emma held her tight by the hair.

"Janet, you've been having a profitable quarter. Why don't you give Sue something to keep her from making a mess? A large bill, I should think. As a fashionista, you should know how entwined expense is with enjoyment."

Janet had to pry her hands off the bottoms of her thighs, leaving white marks where they'd been clenched, but eventually she reached into her purse and brought out a hundred-dollar bill. "I'd pay ten times this to watch what's going down."

"You're not going to _watch _for much longer," Emma said meaningfully. She took the bill and rolled it up into a tight straw, then handed it to Sue. "You know what to do."

"I…" Sue picked up the money. "I…" She put it in her nose. "Oh, Emma."

She ran the dollar bill over the cocaine until nothing was left but a faint white smear on the stage.

This hit wasn't like before. It went in hard, hitting her in the pool of overwarm pleasure that Emma had made between her legs. It knocked away everything but EmmaemmaEMMA, that look on the back of her neck, those fingernails needled on her hips, that patch of skin where Emma's knee pressed against the back of her leg, the low and almost supportive way Emma's whisper (thoughts?) made it to her ear—"_Come on now, that's it, there we are, good girl, ride it, I know it's rough, you simply must ride it, there, THERE, come down now, dear, you've had your fun, yes, can you orgasm once more? For me? Yes? Good girl, darling girl, such a good student, we're learning so much_."

Sue couldn't even think of the dildo up her ass. It wasn't a part of her and it wasn't a part of Emma. It felt bigger than them. The world was darkness and her and Emma, and the feeling of being penetrated was at the center of it. Emma was the boundary, keeping everything tight and confined and cozy. And Sue… Sue was the darkness.

Later, her friends would tell her that she came four times, just from Emma swaying her hips with that cock deep inside. Janet would say it was six, but she was prone to exaggeration. They all agreed, and Sue vaguely remembered, that at some point (orgasm three?) her arms gave out and she just collapsed on the stage, her arms and forehead off the edge, her face covered by the hair reaching for the floor.

Emma pulled out by degrees, accounting for however other many orgasms Sue felt. By then, her high was finally dying. She just felt a chilly absence and realized she could rest and passed out for what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes as Emma took off the dildo, had Betsy wipe it down, then put it back in its box, safe and sound.

Emma patted Sue on her well-used ass along with a mental nudge, waking her in time to hear "Get her on her feet, ladies. We're taking this party upstairs."

Everyone but Emma descended on Sue, eager to grope her as they lifted her up. Jen's hands—large but not mannish, just shockingly long fingers—sunk into her buttocks. Janet's—slender and child-like compared to Jen's—cradled her breast as they supported Sue's back. And Betsy's fingers were rough and callused where they gripped Sue's head, her other hand carrying the box under her arm, but her index finger possessively hooked in Sue's mouth. Sue was glad for the small debasement. Sucking on it gave her something to focus on as the cocaine erupted through her. Making her heart race and shake.

She was born aloft behind Emma like the prize from a hunt, club-goers parting before her to observe her degradation from new angles. The lights and music _physically_ crashed down on Sue. Their waves bounced through her blood vessels and left her shaking like a struck cymbal. She thrashed and laughed. Laughed louder when Emma's guests reached out in passing and ripped off pieces of her garments. In only twenty feet she was stripped bare, her naked body glowing with sweat and shaking, hot and cold. She wondered if Emma's nods had anything to do with who was helping her disrobe. Did she nod to them before or after they stripped her? It was hard for Sue to tell.

The procession (_hunting party_, Sue's mind claimed) swept through the dance floor and up a spiral staircase the size of a redwood. In the rafters, with the sound and fury dimmed, Sue should've felt metal-cold. Instead she could've been in a boiler room. On her bare skin, her friends' bold fingers felt hot as brands.

Finally, they ascended to a mahogany door, _tres_ out of place. Through it was Emma's office, which of course connected to a luxurious bedroom. Both were stark white, the office lined on both walls with paintings, each pair dominated by a different primary color. In that room, they looked like windows into other worlds. And despite what was downstairs, none of them were sexual. Flowers, trees, fruits—it could've been a museum exhibit.

At the far end of a space the size of a studio apartment, floor-to-ceiling windows of one-way glass looked down on the White Queen's realm.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Emma asked in a rhetorical mood. She sat on her ivory desk with its black drawers as Sue was carried past it, born like a virgin sacrifice to those vast windows.

In her mind's eyes, with the vulgar suddenness of a dirty word, Sue imagined a pillory made out of her own forcefields. It was of a special design: a large board in front with three holes for her arms and head to go through, then a neck that swept down and widened so she'd be bent over it at the waist. From there it narrowed straight down into a pole, which crept along the floor to become a second holed board for her legs. Struts projected to either side so the construct wouldn't pitch over with her weight. It looked like a horrible device, bending someone over and locking them in place, something Sue wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.

"Yes, mistress," she said, and when they set her down, she projected the forcefields, obediently bending down over its neck and 'strapping' herself in.

With the pillory invisible, she looked like she was frozen in ice, bent over an imaginary desk or table. Her ass was on display, as was her pussy underneath. So were her breasts, dangling under her. Sue could see them in the faint reflection of the dark glass. Along with Jen, Janet, and Betsy, growing in the mirror as they circled her.

Betsy slid a hand over her ass, while Janet ran her fingernails down Sue's steepled leg. Jen was the most aggressive. She reached right under Sue and grabbed a handful of cleavage like she was inspecting livestock.

After a testing squeeze on Sue's buttocks, Betsy's hand slithered down toward where Sue was pink and wet. Emma stopped her with a brisk command.

"Slut, bring me Wolverine." Betsy obediently trotted off. She went to the desk, pulling open a wide drawer. Bending over to do it, giving Emma a perfect view of her perfect ass. She put Cyclops's box inside—_Jesus, _Sue thought, _she really does have Scott's dick in her desk—_and took out another. Opened it.

Inside was exactly what Sue expected, only much larger. Cyclops had just seemed big because of the circumstances and the drugs. Sue guessed it was really only about six and a half inches. This was ten inches, and thicker, its brown and black coloring making it look still more masculine and threatening.

Emma clapped her hands together as Betsy fitted the new strap-on to her like a tailor. "This is Wolverine," she said, gesturing to her phallus like she was making introductions. "It's not true to life— Logan's is actually short but thick, rather like the man himself really, but I enjoy thinking of the look on Scott's face were he to discover this."

Sue saw Emma clearly in the reflection as she approached, white, gleaming. She was so pale she could've been the moon, her light only blotted out by Sue's body as Emma stepped around her. At her groin, reflection made the strap-on obscenely black. An abyss that Sue lost herself in; when Emma came around, she thrust the dildo in Sue's face, making it dominate her vision. Through Sue's adrenaline rush, it pulsed and throbbed mightily.

Emma ran it down Sue's face in a parody of a loving caress, the kind Reed might do from across the room, and it. Was. So. Cold. So refreshingly cold.

While Sue burned up, Emma put her out a little. "You haven't had any work done, have you Susan? Such a lovely face. More than the sum of its parts. That simplistic haircut. That weak chin. Those lost cheekbones. Yet it's all so naturalistic that one has to forgive the shortcomings. Yes, you're a veritable winsome beauty. I can't believe I'm going to let someone else fuck that face. But that's Emma Frost, I suppose. Generous to a fault." Perching the Wolverine cockhead on Sue's lips, she faced each of the others in turn. "Alright, poppets, now you get off. But only on our dear Susan's face. I'll leave it to you to sort out the pecking order."

Sue pulled at her bonds, but they were inescapable. The sleek, glassy feel of her forcefields was usually so comforting. Now they felt otherworldly enough to be threatening. They were hers, yet she couldn't control them (or herself). Emma _had _split Sue apart when she'd penetrated her. One half of her was still fearful of this pleasure and anyone who could possibly enjoy it. The other held the rest of her tightly captive, betraying her to the White Queen.

Emma circled around Sue to fit the dildo to her ass like a plug in a socket. Despite the stretching Sue had endured just minutes ago, her ass put up a token resistance to Wolverine's entry. Emma made an "mmm" sound and applied a little more pressure, than a little less. Sue clenched and relaxed. A little more pressure, a little less.

"You want to see me put this bitch on a spit before we start?" Emma asked the others.

They nodded eagerly, Janet letting out a tiny "Yes!"

Emma secured Sue's waist in her hands, then her hips—

(Sue remembered agonizing pain, sudden, indescribable. That alone she could've endured. She'd been in enough torture chambers and death-traps to stand up to anything. Except that a second after Emma roughly shoved herself into Sue, the pain was wiped away by pleasure. Some secret part of her was exploding and singing, and not because she was getting fucked in the ass. Because a woman was fucking her in the ass, a woman she wasn't married to. A woman that was stronger than her, prettier than her, better than her. And naughtier. So much naughtier.)

"Now fuck her face off," Emma commanded, twirling a lock of Sue's hair around her finger.

The three heroines swept in all at once, but Jen was easily the victor. She shouldered the other two aside like a linebacker and grabbed Sue by the ears. Her pussy was close enough for Sue to count the many hairs on it (not too many, of course, Jen being Jen, but she was definitely closer to being a meadow than a lawn), though Jen kept a respectful distance. "Sorry about this, Suzie," she said with a chagrinned smile. "But Shulkie want get off!"

"That's okay, I completely understand," Sue said. Tried to say. From the second word on, she was muffled by a giant green twat.

Not that Sue had much to compare it to, but Jen tasted good. _Exotic, _strong to the point of unpleasant, an acquired taste to be sure—but good. The gamma radiation must've changed Jennifer's flavor as surely as the rest of her, because her juices left a faintly burning aftertaste like watered-down whiskey. Sue loved it. She licked as best she could, but despite her tongue being feared by every member of the World's Greatest Heroes, it wasn't enough for the sensational She-Hulk. At least, not with her as keyed up as the last half-hour had left her.

"Stick out your tongue," Jen ordered, her deep voice rumbling with arousal, and Sue obligingly extended her tongue as far as she could. Not that Jen waited for that. She jerked her hips like a teenage boy at a dance, grinding her cunt into Sue's face until she had Sue's tongue trapped. Then she went faster.

Even with Jen holding back—she was, right?—She-Hulk frantically ramming her sex against Sue was like receiving a series of open-handed slaps. The taste filled Sue's mouth, setting her throat aflame. Then Jen stopped bothering with tongue altogether. She simply held Sue's head still and ground herself into it, running her sex over Sue's face in laughing delight. Sue felt her booming, full-throated chuckle as deeply as the rest of her. Jen was as hot as an open match held up to Sue's face, and her wetness marked Sue like war paint. Sue forgot about the pillory, and nearly forgot about Emma, and just—what was Johnny's word for it? Motorboated.

"YES YES YES!" Jen was as vocal as her cousin, though far more agreeable. When Sue was able to see past her magnificently thick thighs, it was up at Jen with Janet and Betsy hanging off her, either trying to move her so they could get their turn earlier or trying to leech off of Jen's sexual excitement. Or both. The way they bit and scratched at Jen could not be considered either wholly loving or wholly aggressive. They, and Emma's glorious smile, spurred Jen on. She threaded her hands into Sue's hair and forced her as deep as she could into her needy cunt.

It ended up covering both Sue's nose and mouth, instantly cutting off her air. And her vision, for that matter. All Sue could see was the sweet, cuddly pink that had been so incongruously situated in the midst of Jen's jade skin and dark hair. She struggled to breathe, turned her head to try to get away from Jen, but the giantess just went faster. Unapologetically rutting Sue's nose, Jen threw her head back to expose her surprisingly slender neck to her friends' love bites. Her pussy ran like a piece of fruit being squeezed harder and harder, now slathering Sue's face with her cream, filling her lungs with the smell of quim and nothing else.

With Sue suffocating, her head turned to the ceiling, her friends teething her neck like twin vampires, and Emma watching, Jennifer Walters dropped her mouth open and roared "YESSSSS! SHE-HULK **COME!"**

Emma giggled fitfully. There was one thing she'd give superheroes—their morals may have been stauncher than her usual playmates, but they were _much _less boring.

(Sue remembered how Jen had been exhausted, in both senses of the word, transforming back into the mild attorney she had once been exclusively. It'd been quite a sight, naked. Jen's butt flattened, her breasts shrunk to B-cups, her muscles swam in seas of slack skin, until finally a short, mousy woman was left, naked and giggling with the same joie de vive She-Hulk had possessed. She'd sat down on the couch, then the floor when Emma objected to a sweaty superheroine on her furniture, and Sue hadn't noticed her again)

A bolt of psychic force added to her orgasm had Jen stumbling back, freeing a gagging Sue to spit out some of the prodigious come Jen had gifted her with and suck in air. Emma wasn't planning for her to catch her breath, though. Even as Jen's heady juices drip-drip-dripped from Sue's chin (and ears, and hair, and eyelashes), Emma rolled her hips to obscenely sexual effect.

Sue gulped down what was left of Jen's appreciation, her eyes rolling back in her head and air no longer seeking refuge in her chest. Wolverine was _huge. _No, no it wasn't—she tried to tell herself, rationally, logically—it wasn't that much bigger than Cyclops, and she'd taken that no problem. But none of that common sense made a difference to her ass, where the dildo felt as big around as Ben's fist and as long as Reed when he needed something back in a room he'd just left. And in the face of that gut feeling, of being _reamed_, of being _sodomized_, Sue wondered if she could take even an inch more.

"You can," Emma said aloud, and Sue realized belatedly that her thoughts were being read. She might've expected Emma to lean down, whisper in her ear like some of her more gentle lovers had done when taking on the unemotional 'doggy style' position. But no. Emma stayed erect, head held high, dropping her proclamation down on Sue like the Oracle must've done in ancient Rome. "You can, and you will. Your ass is mine, Susan Storm. It's time I enjoy it a bit more."

Sue whimpered and closed her eyes, not even bothering to try and break free of the pillory, much less dispel her own forcefields. Emma was adding a few more inches to her conquest and it hurt like hell, if not as much as before. Or maybe it did and she just enjoyed it more. Either way, when Emma finally stopped, Sue was breathing hard and had no idea whether she wanted Emma to keep going or pull out and let her run and hide.

Emma, as usual, wasn't doing either. "Very good, Susan. You're taking to buggery much faster than expected. But now that you've had your fun," _MY FUN? _bounced shrilly through Sue's head, "you'd best remember that to give is better than to receive."

Janet was next up. She'd made some deal with Betsy to keep the ninja hanging back, and now that she had Sue mostly to herself, her crystalline wings were fully extended with her arousal, batting in jogging spurts that sent cool breezes through the room and ruffled Emma's hair dazzlingly. Janet took a tissue from a nearby table—her staccato wings nearly ripped it from her hands—and went to wipe Sue's face off.

"Don't listen to Emma, you have a lovely face. You're a classical beauty. I mean, that thing your nose does, you know? That's art, honey. Money can't buy it. I would love to put you in some of my clothes. Although right now, I'm obviously enjoying having you out of them so much more!"

Sue groaned and gurgled through the one-sided conversation. She was still getting used to the headway Emma had made in her ass, the unrelenting force of the dildo opening her up and holding her open. It was insane. A weight that drilled deeper and deeper into her, but just kept spinning its wheels—the pleasure pressing down on her, but never getting where she needed it. And as Sue had correctly guessed, she would only get Emma's precious ministrations by getting off her friends. She wanted to be degraded by Janet so she could be degraded by Emma. What a fucking world.

The OCD case in her satisfied with how presentable Sue was, Janet stood, crooked her hands on her hips, and jutted her sex out for Sue's inspection. She was far more meticulously shaved than Jen, her labia bare except for the landing strip in the shape of the Avengers' famous logo. That explained the cocky grin Janet displayed. It wasn't like Sue had a 4 on her cooch.

"Just so you know, I think it's really great that you're doing this!" Janet said hurriedly, with her trademark mile-a-minute flare. "It is so good for your relationship to get in touch with your inner slut. You would not believe how great things were with Hank after I fucked Black Panther. It's not for everyone, that'd just be silly, but I think there are a lot and a lot of people who just really need to fuck around! It's not like we won't have plenty of time to be monogamous once we're old and gray, but right now, we should be getting as much dick and vajayjay as we can! Who knows when we'll end up in one of those one million dystopian futures that keep paying us visits! There's no time for sex when Dr. Doom is making us all build a giant statue of his pet cat or—"

Sue licked Janet's cunt. At least her clit wasn't tiny.

"Oh!" Janet said, shocked. She tried to carry on the conversation. "Or a-a-a mural of his dead mother, your arch-nemesis is quite the mommy's boy, needs to have a—" (Sue licked Janet again. There was a fruity bouquet to her that had to be intentional, some kind of body wash or, more likely, pussy wash. It was novel, at least. Two bouts of cunnilingus and Sue was becoming a connoisseur.) "That would be pretty good work, actually, painting for a living. I'm quite artistic, really, I've done some portraits. Not enough for an exhibition… do you think I should get back into painting? There are a lot more subjects these days. Why, those Junior X-Men alone would be…"

Sue sealed her mouth to Janet and ate voraciously. She usually liked Janet's meaningless babble, but not when it stood in the way of getting the few more inches that would end the burning desire between her legs.

"Oooh!" Janet hummed, setting her hands atop Sue's head like a crown. She bunched her fingers in Sue's hair. "Your hair really is lovely, Sue, although have you ever thought of streaks? They make you look so much—MMMMM!" Sue marked that spot to remember later. For now, she wanted to try nibbling on Janet's labia. "Uhh! Uhh!" Janet grunted. "You're good at this! Is it because—" Sue drove her tongue deep into Janet, in and out like a cock, rewarded with grunts and gasps. "OOF! Sue, that's amazing! You're a natural! OH!" Sue went back to That Spot. "OH GOD! YES! PLEASE! FUCK ME! FUCK ME WITH YOUR FACE! MMM-MM-MMMMFUCK!"

Even coming, Janet had a big mouth. She wailed like a banshee, her wings fluttering so hard that it was like going down on a turbofan. She wasn't a squirter like Jen, though Sue did detect a taste of something unlike the passion fruit flavor she'd been getting—the taste indescribable, but quite alright—very Janet van Dyne.

Janet sagged back on the balls of her feet, letting her whirring wings keep her up like she was slumping into an invisible beanbag chair. She wiped some drool off her chin. "You're a really good friend, Sue. We should've eaten each other's cunts years ago!"

Sue would've said something about how Janet hadn't eaten her at all, and it would probably be more than a few years before she did, but Betsy was done waiting. She walked right over the reclining Janet on those decadently long legs, marching up to Sue and taking her head in her hands. "Enjoy," Betsy said, her gruff voice making it more of a command as she shared minds with Sue, letting her look through Betsy's eyes at Emma.

So she could watch Emma as she buried a few more precious inches in Sue's ass, a devilish look in her eye, wearing the open-mouthed smile of a goblin as she opened Sue up forever, stretched her and loosened her and claimed her. Like an echo, Sue heard herself through both her own ears and Betsy's—"Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck… goddamn… motherfucker… Emma! Fucking _Emma!_"—a steady stream of curse words she hadn't used since she was a teenager. That, and gasping, and whimpering, and screaming as Emma stopped just an inch too far to be bearable.

"Hurts!" Sue moaned shrilly, the pleasure gone far away, only an insistent fraction left behind to taunt her. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…"

"Easy, darling. I'll take care of you." Emma's gloved hand ran coolly between Sue's legs. Like ice, it seemed to melt on her burning thighs, her molten sex. "I take such good care of all my students."

Sue was crying, Betsy wiping the tears away with her thumbs. The strap-on was like a hot poker in her flesh, and the heat was flaying her cunt. Only Emma's cool fingers and the pleasure they brought made it tolerable. In fact, she thought she could come. Yes, the pain was going away now, beaten back by Emma. She felt her tension pushed to the max, the pressure at its highest, the freedom and release of an orgasm within arm's reach…

Emma stopped, marking the occasion with a brisk slap to Sue's buttocks. "That's all for now. Time for some sisterly solidarity. Give Slut her orgasm, then you can have yours."

Betsy tugged Sue's face into the tuft of purple hair crowning her slit. "Lick," she ordered brusquely.

Sue was still frozen by her impending orgasm. It was so close! She tried to push back against Emma's cock, just get an ounce of friction to finish her off, but the pillory wouldn't let her move that way anymore than she could pull away from Emma. She couldn't even clench her thighs for whatever relief that would bring. She was trapped on the verge of orgasm, and it was worse torture than anything Dr. Doom had ever come up with.

Betsy grew impatient with the delay. She straightened the middle and forefinger of her left hand, then nipped them into Sue's neck like she was training a dog. It was nowhere near as painful as the sodomy Sue was undergoing, but still startling enough to be unpleasant.

"Lick!" Betsy repeated, her British accent cold enough to freeze fire.

Suddenly, Sue felt incredibly nervous. She was sandwiched between two women who were the epitome of seductiveness, each with miles more experience than her, and she was expected to please them? How? She made a few tentative laps at Betsy, hoping it would please her, but all it earned was another painful nip.

"Faster!" Betsy ordered. Emma giggled in front of her, covering her mouth with her hand.

Sue obeyed, licking and kissing Betsy's slit. To her relief, it tasted much the same as Janet's had when you got past whatever it was Janet bought to give herself the flavor of a Starburst. For a moment, Sue'd been worried that Betsy would taste 'Asian' somehow and make her feel like a racist.

"Better," Betsy said, her inscrutable face (now Sue felt like a racist anyway) relaxing into a smile. She returned both hands to Sue's face, subtly massaging it as Sue licked and licked. Her touch had Sue relaxing with each swipe of her tongue, pushing 'getting buggered' to the back of her mind and replacing it with the luxurious feel of Betsy on her tongue.

"Mmm-hmmm," Sue moaned unintentionally, lost in all of Betsy's lovely skin. She licked and kissed and sucked, rewarded by the pulsing subconscious thrill spreading from her lips outward. She didn't know if it was all tasting Betsy and being touched by her, or if some of it was subtle telepathy, but she didn't care. She was drifting off, her tongue dancing to the metronome beat of Betsy's demand. All she had to do was keep licking Betsy. It was very soothing. Like sucking on a lollipop, Sue thought with a drugged giggle.

All too soon, her ministrations bore fruit. Betsy came to taste headier, stronger somehow, and her hands came away, leaving Sue in the lurch. When the blonde opened her eyes, she saw those deadly hands rolling up Betsy's body, feeling out her own taut skin and sleek musculature, heavy breasts and angular face, fingers cresting the O of her parted lips as she reached completion.

"Acceptable," Betsy said with typical sparsity. She stepped away, purple pubic hair dewy with moisture. Sue was still staring at the incredible symmetry of her warrior's body, goggling at how she had brought pleasure to it, when Emma dug her nails into Sue's flanks and pushed forward into Sue's tightest, hottest hole.

It hurt so bad, Sue couldn't even scream, just yelp. It was no fair, going from the pleasure of eating Betsy out to this inferno of pain. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks, dripping into her open mouth as her head twisted and turned, "No, Emma, no, Emma please, Emma, _Emma_!" A harsh sob broke through her throat. "It _hurts!_"

Finally, Emma came down off her pedestal, bending down to whisper in Sue's ear. "Suffering is good for the soul," she shared, and drove the final inch of her dildo deep inside.

Without warning, Sue boomeranged from the explosion of pain to an implosion of ecstasy, pure pleasure as she came, spurting, her climax running down her legs in rivulets. At the other end of her body, a scream was wrenched from her throat. It echoed through the confines of the office, raining down on the dance floor below, bringing smiles to the faces of Jen and Janet and Betsy.

"Still want me to stop?" Emma asked, pulling her dildo out a tiny degree. The relief it brought was absolutely unacceptable. Sue needed the pressure, the pain, the orgasm that came with them. Emma didn't even wait for Sue to put her answer into words, reading it right off of Sue's mind. "That's what I thought."

She pulled out anyway, nearly halfway, and Sue sobbed anew. Her crying turned to guttural barks of enjoyment as Emma thrust back into her with short, quick thrusts that sent agony galloping through her. The only way Sue survived was having Emma's hand between her legs, the heel of her hand flush against her cunt, pleasure like an ice cube sizzling on a skillet. She came again, a painful orgasm, a climax that _hurt_, and she absolutely loved it.

Janet knelt in front of her and kissed her hungrily, tasting herself and two other women atop Sue's much-abused lipstick, and Sue loved that too.

Emma's thrusts became deeper, longer, slower somehow. In and out, first the painful delve into Sue, then the inexorable and agonizing _lack _of pulling out, opening Sue up to feel the exquisite pleasure of Emma's fingers diddling her cunt. After what felt like seconds, she came again, sobbing and moaning into Janet's open mouth as her friend kissed her cheeks and forehead, only returning to her lips when Sue had gotten it out of her system.

Now they'd attracted Betsy's interest. She sauntered up to the pillory, experimentally testing its invisible borders with outstretched hands, then did a perfect split to sink to the ground. _Damn ninja show-offs_, Sue thought. But it put Betsy in perfect position to suck on Sue's breasts, left dangling by her compromising position, and that gave Janet the idea to reach underneath Sue and fondle her other tit.

All that would've been more than enough to get Sue off, in time, but Emma's words shot her to the finish line like a jet rocket at a footrace. "I hope you're learning something about yourself, Susan. It's important to remember that you are a slut, in general, and a cockslut specifically, and that you can take so very much enjoyment in having your cockslut ass fucked and used to orgasm and filled with come. I trust having your asshole stretched out and gaping will help you remember, as will not being able to take one dainty footstep without thinking of my great big phallus entering you anally. But in case you forget, don't worry, I will be fucking each and every one of your holes more than enough times for you to remember your lesson: You. Are. Mine. And not only are you mine, my young pupil, but you love being mine, my cockslut, my dirty anal whore, my fucking _toy OH_…!"

Emma lost herself in a perfect orgasm, sinking once more home into Sue's ass, closing her eyes and tilting her head back and breathing hard for a full minute as she soaked in the psychic pleasure of everyone else in the room. Then her eyes clicked open.

"Jen," she said, eying the woman who had been checking her smartphone messages. "You're not participating," Emma chided.

"I can't Hulk out," Jen said, blushing. "Not after a really _gangbusters _orgasm." Sue and Janet turned to look at her. Even Betsy eyed her with her mouth around Sue's teat. "Yeah, I don't advertise that."

Emma smiled magnanimously. "I should think even your normal human strength would be enough to hold this whore open for my reaming cock," she said, sweet as sugar.

Jen seemed to agree, running over to pull Sue's cheeks apart for Emma. It could've have made much a difference, but suddenly Emma seemed to go even deeper as she pounded Sue's ass as fast and rough as mutantly possible. She stopped fingering Sue, her hand instead tightening around Jen's neck to hold her steady for an equally brutal kiss, but that was alright by Sue. Someone else—Jen or Jan or Betsy—penetrated her with their bare hands, so much warmer than Emma's leather gloves, and it was just the thing to stroke her fire and pour gasoline on the smoldering ashes that her last orgasm had made of her.

She came roaring back to life, an inferno, and had an orgasm that she wouldn't be able to tell ended, because Emma kept fucking her and Janet kept kissing her and Betsy kept suckling her and Jen, was it Jen?, kept stroking her with those delicious fingers, so she just kept coming and coming and coming, until Emma let the memory end and Sue was back on that rooftop, in the middle of New York, broad daylight, hanging off Emma like she was on the cover of a romance novel and, oh yes, still coming her brains out.

To her annoyance, when Sue's eyes fluttered open, she saw the captive Mole Man had awakened. He was staring at them with a great bulge in his trousers. Emma noticed too, and shut him back off with a wave of her hand.

"Don't worry, I'll erase his memories. Most of them. Let him think he's had one hell of a wet dream, the poor bugger doesn't get a smidgen of action as it is."

"I want it!" Sue fairly shouted, feeling her hard nipples raking painfully against the confines of her bra. "I want to be your guest, I want to be your whore, I wanna be fucked and come and fuck people and—"

Emma laughed, petting Sue's hair. "Easy now! You do run hot and cold. There'll be time enough for that tonight, when you've tucked your kiddies away and come back to my domain. Since you've been so good about accepting my tutelage, I'll arrange a special treat for you. Oh, Susan. I think you could become my favorite student."

Sue giggled madly. She felt higher than she'd been on the cocaine. Wild. Tipping over into frenzy. "Want me to bring you an apple, teach?"

Emma kissed her cheek. "That would be exquisite. Tonight, my darling. Wait for tonight. For now, I think it's best you attend to certain wardrobe malfunctions."

Sue looked down. The crotch of her suit had gone from periwinkle blue to damn near indigo with all the come she'd soaked it with. Grinning, Sue turned herself invisible. That was an easy fix.

"See you tonight," Emma said, and gave Sue's transparent cheek an unerring kiss before departing.


End file.
